Chapter 312

• Isadora
• I am not a morning person. Not by a long shot. So if I’d known being married to Alec Thornton meant I’d be roused by hushed voices and the smell of burnt coffee before the sun has hardly come up, I might’ve signed up for another extended sabbatical instead.
• I crack open one eye as the voices reach me, faint but insistent, filtering up from downstairs. I sit up, tugging the blanket around my shoulders, and strain to make out the words. No use from up here—this house is way too big. But the curiosity eats at me, and before I can second-guess myself, I’m slipping out of bed and moving toward the door.